Never Lost But Found
by roswellchick22
Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the Daleks invasion but Martha’s slowly losing her grip on her sanity and possibly her humanity. This is post series 4/Journey's End.
1. Part I

**Title**: Never Lost but Found (1/2)**  
Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairings**: Martha/Doctor, Martha/Jack  
**Spoilers**: Post S4; The Journey's End  
**Summary**: It's been a couple of months since the Daleks invasion but Martha's slowly losing her grip on her sanity and possibly her humanity.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters or Doctor Who or Torchwood. I wish I did, but I don't.

----

Martha wasn't thinking.

No. There was no way she could have done this without thinking. She didn't pack, just kept what she had on. Her cell phone was tucked into her back pockets of her jeans as she kept only what were left of her humanity.

Under her eyes, there was the slight indication of not much sleep. Nightmares. She didn't discuss it; she hid it like she always does. Her shoulders ached, she felt as if she carried the entire world there (and she had twice). She felt a sense of relief for a brief period when she climbed into the driver's seat of the car, sitting there for what seemed like long moments. It was almost three in the morning, dark, but even still, she could feel his presence around her.

It was haunting her.

She didn't know where she was heading to. She had to get away. That was the plan; get far from her neighborhood, her home, her normal state like life.

It's around ten in the morning when her cell rings. Martha recognizes the number; Tish.

A little after twenty minutes, another phone call…Francine, her mother. Martha ached to pick up and answer, but did not. It continued to vibrate in the passenger's seat. Ten thirty passes around and it's Leo.

It's been almost a couple of months since she saw that sky full of planets. It was a while since she had set eyes on Donna, Sarah Jane, even _Rose_. It felt longer towards the Doctor.

A couple of weeks had passed when she found herself among Mickey and Jack. Torchwood was back into her life again, her only source of regaining who she was to become, not what she was beginning to lose.

Tears had started to form from Martha's eyes as continued on her journey.

She felt alone. She _was_ alone. Tom hadn't returned back into her life. Was it him that she missed the most? His smile, his charming behavior, and her only source to regain stability? She didn't know. She was confused about everything. Who she was turning into, what she was losing, what she was trying to gain? It wasn't like a couple of days after the invasion; everything could go back to where they were.

She wouldn't admit she never got over the Year that never was.

As her vehicle slowed down behind a few others, she clenched her chest, right above where her heart began to ache.

_Not again_, was her thought.

_When she set foot in Cardiff again, the first face she saw was Mickey. He looked so happy, so joyous to be alive, to see her once again. They hugged briefly, and felt a presence she hadn't felt in so long. It wasn't Ianto or Gwen, though she missed them so. And admittedly, she missed Tosh and Owen the most._

_  
But all he had to do was clear his voice and give a small salute._

_She missed him. _

_He missed her._

_There was that spark of chemistry that wasn't left behind between them. Feeling his arms around her, she almost felt as if she was at home. He told her that she was home. At least for a short period of time, anyway._

_She began to work with Torchwood once again, until they could get back onto their feet again. It wasn't a favor; it was more like a wish that had been granted. Jack had wanted her to return previous times before everything had came to a head, but between UNIT and her family, she declined many times. So what was different about this time?_

_It was Jack._

_He would show up unannounced in the middle of the night, comforting her. Sometimes with his words, with his touch, but it was with his lips that gave her the most comfort. It started off pretty innocent, if you can believe that. It was small hugs, little coy winks here and there. There was a time when they were under attack where he kissed her with so much passion, a hint of greediness involved. _

_He told her he could give her what she needed, what they both needed. _

_And she took it._

Martha's only thinking of the word "go."

The radio continued to play in the background, there's some song that reminds her of the Doctor and she snarls under her breath, immediately changing the station. It seems to be that the world must be against her as she starts to see small insignificant things that remind her of him.

A stander-by wearing a pair of black Chuck Taylor's almost made her cry.

_No, Martha, don't even think of him. _Martha was speaking to herself.

What was happening to herself?

She was going to crack like a small China like doll.

Eventually, Martha finds herself quite far from where she wanted to be. It was crowded, loud, and the tea tasted almost bitter to her. She forgot she loved tea. She didn't drink it anymore.

Its official: Martha was a walking zombie.

_Martha feels herself tighten in her own sleep as she felt something tugging at her soul. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. She gasped for breath and her lifeline was slipping away._

_She had failed._

_  
She was dying._

_  
It was all her fault._

_  
And then, she woke up, jerking against the body that lay behind her. His arms tightened before his hands moved up her upper arms. "Another nightmare?" was the question.  
_

_She could only nod against him._

_  
"Martha…" His voice was at a whisper in her ear. It sent tingles down her spine. Jack was filling that empty void that she had missing for a long time. "Martha, look at me." He had almost said in a demanding like voice. Her body twisted around and over to her other side, looking into his eyes._

"_I want to help you, but I can't if you can't tell me what's going on."_

_  
"I don't even know what's going on." Was all she could say before she felt his lips pressing against her softly, briefly, and be taken away into another night of passion for the third time that night._

She couldn't feel emotions anymore. They were drained of her that night when things seemed to return to normal. It plagues her. She couldn't focus at work. Her duties as being a doctor almost made her feel robotic when she stitched up a patient. No welcoming smile, no goodbye, just a simple nod.

The night came quicker than she thought.

10 missed calls total.

She wasn't ready to face them. She wasn't ready to face herself when she saw her reflection in a cheap hotel's mirror.

She looked skinnier. Her hair was growing, but she kept it wrapped in a tight bun all the time, she never noticed. It wasn't iher/i.

She spent many hours crying on the bathroom floor. She held onto her arms as she cried out her tears. She cried for her family, for Jack, for Mickey, for the Doctor, but not herself. Stuck in a position of a crouched down, rocking motion, her cries were almost invisible to the thunderstorm outside.

"Where are you?!" Martha didn't wince at the voice on the other line.

"Jack…"

"You know your mother had to find my number and made me call you since you are not good at picking up your phone." Jack sounded a bit angry but relieved.

"Jack, I couldn't stay. I had to leave."

"Why didn't you tell me? We're all worried sick about you. I love you." Martha's heart should have skipped a beat at that confession, but it didn't.

"I know you do," she paused; she couldn't repeat those words right back at him. Not yet. "But I will return in due time. Tell my family that I'm okay, that I'm alright." It was almost a plea, an urge to get him to tell them.

"I will." The line clicked and ended.

Wearing the same clothes as the day before, she was sitting in front of the bed on the floor. The large window of the room was wide open and she continued to stare out the window from her spot.

On the television was a mention of the Dalek invasion, a short spot on the news.

The volume was down but she could feel what they were discussion. This was not over.

It rained again.

The second time in a row, it rained again, and Martha had no umbrella. Her clothes and hair began to get drenched as she walked among the crowds in the streets. She didn't stick out like a sore thumb, but some wondered if she even cared she was getting wet. And she didn't.

And then, a slight shift in the air.

Interrupted in her whirlwind of thoughts, she noticed that it wasn't raining on her anymore. Confused, she looked at the body walking along with her. It started from the bottom and then up. Trench coat, brown suit chosen with a pair of white converse sneakers and ihe/i stopped her.

"Martha Jones," he said, it was so quietly spoken, but she heard it.

It must be another hallucination, another dream because her heart stopped beating for a moment.


	2. Part IIa

**Title**: Never Lost but Found (2a/2)

**Rating**: PG-13  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters or Doctor Who or Torchwood. I wish I did, but I don't.

**Word Count**: 1893

----

Time seemed to have stopped.

Imagine if the world was playing and you had the power to push the pause button. That's what it seemed like when she laid her eyes on _him._

"Oh, I'll correct myself. Doctor Jones," His voice seemed to be soothing to her ears, but no words could be spoken against them. It was silent, almost like remembering who they were.

"You…can't be here!" There. She found that voice she had hid for a day. "You're not real! Leave me alone!"

A few faces looked at the couple, eyebrows raised but Martha ignored them. It pained her to walk away from the Doctor again, but he was a hallucination, a figment on her imagination.

Right?

A couple of hours had passed since she had 'seen' the Doctor. Face to face, shoulder to shoulder, and he still looked the same. He probably smelled the same as well. A strange combination of peppermint with bananas seemed to follow the Doctor everywhere he walked. Martha wondered if his other companions smelled that scent.

It was probably just her.

The alarm clock on the small nightstand read 10:12 in bright red font.

She was mute again.

She stripped off her jeans and her tank top and tossed them to the other side of the room. Underneath, she wore a matching bra and panties set that were a darker shade of blue, almost midnight blue, one of her favorite colors.

Martha wasn't tired. She wasn't sleepy either.

She was just aching to get off those clothes that_ reeked_ Doctor. Like shedding off a new coat of skin, she scratched her upper arms and peeked out the closed blinds of the window.

And there he was.

Waiting across the street with the largest amount of patience she had ever seen of a man. No, alien. And he was like a disease, spreading chaos and trouble everywhere he went.

It was that kind of chaos and trouble she wanted. It was what her body was_ aching _for. It was then when the wheels were starting to turn in her brain. A stable and normal life wasn't going to work. Every time it would, she was thrown into another life changing, "mega crisis" (her own words) situation.

It created adrenaline in her body she missed.

She closed the blinds, turned out the lights, and climbed into the bed for a short period of time, trying to forget of the day's events.

A couple of days had passed, and no sign of the Doctor.

Maybe he got the memo and left her alone like she said, but it wasn't what she wanted.

Martha used to dream of waking up to see the Doctor standing her own bedroom, watching her with the softest yet clumsy like smile, and it made her smile. In her dreams, he didn't speak, and neither did she, but she felt what he was feeling with his heart. Oh right, he had itwo/i hearts, two perfectly healthy, beating hearts.

----

She'd lay her head against his chest and the echoes of his heartbeats comforted her. He'd wrap his arms around her, held her tightly, and whispered that he would always be there for her, no matter what.

"What a crock of bullshit," she mumbled underneath her breathe and walked to take a long shower.

Nearly four days had passed, her family stopped calling.

Jack had stopped calling as well. There were no voice messages, no text messages, nothing.

No sign of the Doctor around either.

Now she was utterly alone.

It didn't help that she decided to head to a small pub to "clear her thoughts" which was an excuse to take down a few shots of her fancy. She preferred Jack Daniels, and got an eyeful of the bartender working behind the bar was almost surprised at her choice.

There was a small jukebox playing in the corner.

"Baby, it's you" by Smith was playing and it got her foot to start tapping against the leg of the stool.

_God, what an old song_, Martha thought as she stared at the shot glass that was sat down in front of her. She hesitated, grasping the glass tightly around her small fingers, and in one swift motion, she downed the entire shot. It burned slightly when it went down her throat, but she didn't notice.

A few more shots here and there and she would be good. She could be numb for a while.

"Hey, gorgeous. Do you fancy a dance?"

"No, thanks," Martha automatically said, seeing the male figure back away from the corner of her eye, not worried about it at all. Another shot was sat down in front of her sight and she mumbled a weak "thank you" to the bartender who simply nodded his head.

_Bloody hell_, Martha's thoughts were starting up again.

She stumbled off the bars tool but kept her balance. Everything was starting to seem blurry once again. Was it another hallucination that was coming on? No, her heart would start to ache again and it wasn't.

The song continued to play in the pub. It had a retro, 70s rock like feel and the closer she approached the jukebox, the more blurry her vision got.

Just then, there was a slight scent of peppermint invaded her nostrils.

That was an odd smell to come from the inside of a pub and its visitors.

What was that other smell hiding in the background? It stopped Martha for a second, and stared down at her shoes before she felt the presence of another person nearing in.

She didn't risk turning around. Her legs wouldn't carry her long enough to keep her up.

And then she felt it.

The arms were wrapping around her waist gently but not tightly. That indicated she was free to move out of the arms if she felt to, but she didn't. Instead her hands moved to the cover his and she felt the coolness of his fingers against hers.

"What are you doing here?" Martha whispered. She blinked her eyes a few times to get her vision clearer, and it was slightly. His grip on her waist got tighter and his voice started out as a whisper, very low like.

"I'm here to see you, Martha Jones." A shiver went down her spine. She hated the way he said her name. It was perfect, perhaps itoo/i perfect.

"Why here? Why now?"

It felt like her body was starting to move to the rhythm of the beat, her legs allowed her to rock back and forth. And it seemed that he followed her move. This was almost too much to be a dream, it felt too real. Maybe it is real.

"Because, Martha, you need someone." _I need someone._ Boy, he hit the nail on the head on that one.

"I don't need anybody." The words spat out of her lips before she realized what she lied about. "And there's nothing you can do."

He didn't reply to that, but continued to hold her and rock to the music. She didn't say anything afterward, but kept a firm grip on his fingers, almost as if to say _please don't let go_, and he didn't.

An hour later, she was standing in front of the door to her hotel room, and she bit her bottom lip lightly. She used her key to enter her room and left the door open for him to enter in.

The Doctor was right back into her life, in the middle of the hotel room, with his hands in his pockets.

Martha took off her jacket and tossed it onto the available chair in the room. "I don't know why you followed me back here," Martha admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her shoes but her eyes drifted to his shoes. "Tell me why you're here."

"Well, I call it looking out for someone I care about, but I assume you don't want to hear that." The Doctor replied, looking around the hotel room, picking up and examining vases before putting his hands in his pockets again and stood before her.

She snorted at his facial expression that did not match his body language. "I'm here safely so you can go on and get into your blue box and leave like you always do."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." He was toying with her, she knew it!

"Leave."

"Nope, sorry, I can't do that."

That reply grabbed her attention. "Can't or won't?" She asked back, her fingers gripped her thighs tightly.

"Both." The Doctor simply replied and decided tonight was going to be a long night, whether Martha knew it or not. He slipped off his long trench coat, revealing his usual blue suit underneath.

Those red Chuck Taylor's were approaching her again. "You see, Martha," he paused when he got to a closer view of her. "I know you're hurting inside." He looked down at her over the tip of his glasses.

_What did he know about hurting inside?_

"What are you psychic now?" Martha responded, noticing the glasses.

"Boy, I wish I was! Do you know what I could do with that? Wait a minute, no, that would be scary enough. I can't already deal with knowing certain things in time and if I knew what people were thinking and feeling, I'd lose my mind…" There he goes, rambling once again and Martha could only roll her eyes. He was wasting her time!

"Doctor!"

That shook him out of one his usual rambles and he simply smiled down at her. "You know, tonight's the first time you called my name."

"You didn't give me much choice," Martha paused, rubbing her hands together, the alcohol from the pub was starting to kick in. "Now, tell me why you're here and why you can't leave, or won't leave. Whatever."

"Like I said, you need someone, Martha. I can feel that you do." And with a gesture, he held his hand over his chest, indicating that ihe/i too can feel her aching heart, but why?

Martha couldn't say anything worth saying to him.

All she could do was scoot herself to the left to let the Doctor sit down next to her and the simple gesture of his finger interlocking with hers confirmed that this wasn't a dream.

This was reality.

----


End file.
